


when you're here with me (you're not here with me)

by theheartfalls



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, background lilo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 03:47:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheartfalls/pseuds/theheartfalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was always a mutual necessity, this need to use each other. So how is it Zayn can pinpoint the exact moment that all changed?</p>
            </blockquote>





	when you're here with me (you're not here with me)

**Author's Note:**

> this is a rewrite/repost of something i'd written a while back. not much changed but i like the little that did.

I wish we would just give up  
Cause the best part is falling  
Call it anything but love

Zayn’s hands twisted in Harry’s hair, eyes shut tight as he imagined another body against his. He could see clearly in his mind the contours of Liam’s chest as he ran his free hand down Harry’s body, feeling the individual threads of muscle and silky skin. He knew every freckle and every mark on the body he wanted so desperately to touch.

He could imagine pliant lips below his where Harry’s were now, moving in time with his and acting as a stand in for what he couldn’t have. Hands returned his touch, not as long or wide, but good enough. They felt warm and inviting. There weren’t calluses on the fingers like he wanted, but the touches were gentle in the way he wanted and he was fine for now.

Likewise, Harry could draw patterns with his tongue across the roof of Zayn’s mouth, pretending it was Louis. The taste was strange, because Zayn smoked and Louis did not, but it was a tiny detail he could ignore. The hands in his hair and on his body didn’t feel quite the same. Zayn didn’t grasp him in the same spots or tease his skin like Louis used to, but he’d take what he could get.

It wasn’t the same for either of them. It wasn’t the person they wanted in front of them and it wasn’t the warmth they needed to sleep peacefully at night, but being alone was far worse. As long as they were lying to the world, they could be honest with each other. They’d stay away from their attached friends, pretending every single day that they weren’t hopeless in love with someone they could never have, and at night, they had each other.

There were no hard feelings when Liam’s name fell from Zayn’s lips or when Harry cried out Louis’ when he could no longer hold himself up. It wasn’t painful for them to do this, to use each other up and give all they had.

Every day there was a moment of struggle to remember to breathe correctly as they had to pretend everything was normal for the public. It ached deep inside their chests, a feeling they could only share with each other, because no one else could understand. No one else felt quite the same as Harry and Zayn did. None of the other boys knew how it felt to watch their entire world fall in love with someone else every single day.

There were nights where they wouldn’t even touch each other except for gentle hugs and to wipe away the tears. Those nights were the hardest, because there was little either of them could do to help their friend and it broke them down so much further than they were used to. Every single tear Harry shed ripped Zayn apart inside, because he understand. He knew this pain better than most and he wanted so much to take it from Harry, to amplify his own for the sake of his friend.

Other nights were not so gentle. Sometimes it was all rough touches and loud moans. Bruises and scratches left behind by a hand that was too rough but not enough all at once. There was no limit to the things they would do for each other any longer. If Zayn needed to be bent over the bed and worked over until he could no longer stand on his own, that’s what he would get for the night.

It wasn’t conventional. It was no longer a simple friendship, but they couldn’t bring themselves to regret it. They needed each other as much as they needed air to breathe. Dependency at it’s worst was a part of their daily lives. Every time Liam kissed Louis on the tour bus, Harry’s hand instinctively reached for Zayn, knowing. Any time an interviewer asked Louis about Eleanor and he'd sneak a sly look at Liam, Harry would feel an arm wrap around his shoulder, anticipating.

It never got easier, but it was manageable. Every day would be a struggle, but they weren’t completely lost to their emotions. It wasn’t all misery. They could still smile and laugh. They still had happiness, and they owed that, in part, to each other.

They were forever marked. Scars from their broken hearts would leave permanent damage, but a scar was just proof that you could heal. Every time Zayn’s lips brushed across Harry’s skin, another part of him healed. Zayn could save him, and Harry could return the favor.

Maybe it wasn’t all they wanted and desired, but it would always be enough. In Harry’s eyes, Zayn could find hope. He could see a light at the end of the tunnel, magnified back to him tenfold. They didn’t speak of it, they didn’t dare to hope, but maybe all wasn’t lost.

Zayn felt the shift immediately. It was like the beginning of an earthquake; the plates of the Earth began to move underneath him, rocking his world. Walls he had built in his mind for protection were falling at a rapid rate, collapsing around the source of the commotion.

It was cause and effect. The tug and pull of mother nature at work, her will formed fully against him as he saw Liam slipping away from him. He had assumed that he was recovering, because every time he looked at the boy in question, he felt the tightness in his chest loosen. There was less pain, easier breathing, better emotions. They could talk for more than ten minutes without him having to escape to a bathroom or cling to Harry’s wrist.

It was only once the dust had cleared in his murky, confused mind that he realized why Liam was fading fast. The feelings were still there, but they were subdued as his mind took up a new occupation; wanting Harry.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. They were there to support each other as they lusted and loved their best friends. They were never a couple, or friends with benefits, or anything like that. They were simply support. A small, unhealthy form of therapy they had developed on their own. That’s all their nights together were meant to be.

Until one night, after another rough night on Harry’s part, Zayn felt no negative emotion. He felt no hard feelings toward Liam, no pain in his chest because the body pressed against his wasn’t the one he had always wanted. He felt no guilt or regret.

He felt sated. His head was clear and his body was relaxed. His fingers threaded their way through Harry’s and he kissed the back of his hand softly. Harry, for his part, saw nothing strange about this. He was breathing heavily, having done most of the work this time, and he simply buried his head in Zayn’s neck, blocking out the world around them.

And it was then, with his face pressed into Harry’s curls and the smell of him surrounding Zayn that he realized why he was calm.

He had what he wanted. The very thing he wanted at the moment was laying comfortably in his arms.

The panic set in, and it took all he had not to flee. He forced himself to lie there, holding Harry, the emotion growing as he began to recognize it, regardless of his efforts to force it back down. He could feel it growing every second, but he couldn’t just leave Harry. He never left. He wouldn’t start now.

The smell and the feel of Harry’s body were so achingly familiar, though. He could predict the feeling of the rise and fall of Harry’s chest against his. He knew the way it felt to run his fingers through Harry’s hair or down the plains of his back. He knew where to touch to elicit a small, involuntary shiver.

There was no conscious decision on his part to take note of these things and keep them in his memory. He hadn’t decided to learn Harry’s quirks and wants and needs. He didn’t plan to memorize the way his chest felt or the way his eyes looked when he lost himself to physical feelings rather than emotions.

He didn’t mean to fall in love with Harry, and fear gripped him as he realized he was on the verge of reliving exactly what had brought him to this place to begin with. Yet, he lay there, because there was one difference now.

This time, he could have what he wanted. Maybe not emotionally, which wouldn’t be enough, but some was better than none in Zayn’s book. He’d take it. He’d take anything Harry was willing to give him and be happy, because it was more than Liam could have ever offered.

He wasn’t good enough, bright enough. Not nearly as outstanding as Harry deserved.

But he’d take him anyway. Every night, all night. He’d take him, he’d mark him, he’d love him. He was selfish enough that he didn’t care.

~  
It didn’t take long for Harry to notice changes. Slight shifts in Zayn’s attitude or actions. He’d catch him having long talks with Liam, which was so far beyond the norm that he had worried at first. Was he trying to upset himself? Some twisted form of emotional self-harm that Harry wasn’t clued into?

Then he’d catch Zayn looking at him and he’d recognize something in his eyes. He didn’t know what to call it yet, but he had seen it before. Regardless of his ability to put his thumb on it, he knew it was important. Important enough to make him wonder if he had done something.

He felt like Zayn was pulling him away, needing him less. He could stand to be around Liam without Harry by his side. At night, the focus was Harry now, leaving him feeling useless and needy, on top of all the other things he was already feeling.

But he had already lost Louis, and he couldn’t watch Zayn slip away, too. He needed him too much. He depended on his friend to be his backbone. Zayn held him up when he was too weak to do it for himself. He couldn’t sit idly by and watch all of that fall apart.

It had been a gentle night, Zayn simply holding him while some movie they weren’t really watching was playing on the television. His head was resting on Zayn’s chest, moving with every breath he took. His fingers gripped the fabric of his t-shirt like a lifeline, linking them physically, at least in part.

“You’re not done with me, are you?” he questioned, his voice never raising above a whisper.

There was silence for so long that he wondered if Zayn simply hadn’t heard him. Suddenly, the movie was muted and Zayn was sitting up, pulling Harry up with him. They separated enough to make Harry feel sick to his stomach, refusing to release his grip for even a second, even though he felt like Zayn was pushing him away.

“Why would you ask me that?” Zayn asked, face contorted into something akin to hurt and confusion, morphed into one brand new emotion that he couldn’t name right off the bat. “What would ever make you think I could be done with you?”

Harry bit his lip, looking down to where Zayn’s hand was wrapped gently around his upper arm. He reached up with his free hand, pulling his fingers away and intertwining them with his own. “You talk to Liam…” he said by way of explanation.

There was a low huff on Zayn’s part and his body relaxed in a way that made Harry anxious. He didn’t try to move away from him anymore, however, which was better. But only just.

“Harry,” he said softly, getting his attention so that green eyes snapped up to meet dark brown. They held their gaze long enough to make Harry take deep, calm breaths to control himself. “Do you see anything at all?” he asked suddenly.

There wasn’t a moment for him to form a real response before lips were crashing down onto his. There was no urgency to the kiss. It wasn’t full of desperation or an eager need for distraction, as their kisses so often were. It was calm, relaxed… As if Zayn was truly enjoying it.

The thought alone was enough to excite Harry. It had been so long since he had seen himself as someone worth anything. So long since he had felt truly wanted, at least in that way. He had given up on the idea of being seen as anything more than a device to cope with lost love. Not that he blamed Zayn, because the using was a mutual effort, but it wasn’t his shining moment.

When they separated, Zayn was breathing heavily. “Tell me we could make this work.” he demanded immediately, catching him off guard with how urgent his voice sounded. “Tell me that I’m not moving on to something worse.”

It hit Harry like a bolt of lightening. It radiated through his chest, aching for Zayn, as he realized why things with Liam had come so easy for Zayn. He trembled as he understood why Zayn put the focus on him.

“Tell me I’m not wrong to fall for you. Just give me that.”

The pleading was weak, a last ditch effort to find something worth holding onto. There was pain and regret and fear waging war in Zayn’s eyes as he watched Harry, gauging him for any sign of an answer.

He couldn’t look at Zayn and promise him that he wanted him and him alone. He would never lie to him in that way, because he cared too much. He wanted Zayn to feel the least amount of pain possible. He wanted him to be happy.

“I can’t be all in.” he replied weakly. Zayn’s chest fell as he let out the breath he was holding and Harry immediately opened his mouth to fight away the crestfallen look on his face. “But let me try." 

He wanted to love. He wanted to love with his whole heart, and be loved in return for once. Maybe it was unfair to ask Zayn for this. It would probably do them both more harm than good if it went badly.

Fortunately, Zayn was a risk taker, and Harry was a risk worth taking.


End file.
